


Quiet

by floweranza



Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF
Genre: Awkwardness, Chance Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweranza/pseuds/floweranza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nino and Matsuken watch each other out of the corners of their eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

The first thing Nino thinks is that Matsuken is quiet.

Matsuken sits nearby him in the breaks between takes, staring out at the lights of the set amidst the late-night purple haze of normal streetlamps. He's bundled up in the same long black coat as they all are, his hair bunched up by it at the nape of his neck. His dark eyes reflect and shine and he sits like that, chin propped up by his palm, until they close and he dozes until the next call. Nino observes him from the corner of his eye, considering.

It takes him a while to realize that whenever he's not looking, Matsuken is.

 

The second thing Nino thinks is he likes that Matsuken is quiet.

He finally reaches the conclusion that it's because Matsuken reminds him of Leader. It's that same feeling of a lack of judgment, that no matter what Nino says it'll be accepted with a smile. They're different, though. Ohno is a steady stream, already well-established and self-assured, all grace and curves and sleepy whispers. Matsuken has rough edges. He's awkward, sometimes, weird-sounding laughs cut off midway, red cheeks when he suddenly thinks that whatever he's been saying is deeper than anyone else's. Nino can see the gears in his head constantly turning, churning, whenever Matsuken is sitting quietly. Matsuken hasn't been molded like them; he has too many words inside and he can't get them out skillfully, even when he tries. Nino is fascinated by this strange person.

 

They speak a lot on set. There's meaningless chatter among the cast, words of confirmation with the director, quick bites of talk with the staff in between one explosion and the other. And a lot of time, Nino and Matsuken are more or less alone together, hovering in the strange in-between of polite conversation and something else.

"Macchan, hey," Nino breathes out the smoke from his cigarette. "What if you were suddenly called by Gantz? What would you do?"

Matsuken shrugs next to him, a full body stretch. "Well," he says. He tips his head back. "I think I'd run around screaming for a while."

"And then?"

"…I'd try my best not to die?"

Nino laughs, smoke rising up. Matsuken smiles with that quirk on the corner of his mouth.

"And you?"

"Me?" Nino's not startled. He's even thought about this before, when he was reading Gantz for the first time, _what if it were me._ Even then he'd easily had the answer.

"I'd definitely do whatever it takes to get back as soon as possible. I always have four idiots waiting back at home, you know?"

Matsuken makes an acknowledging sound and shifts next to him, testing his limbs out of the awkward tautness the suit sometimes puts them into. When Nino glances at him Matsuken's dark eyes are fixed on him deeply, considering with a strange intent. It's cold in the suits. Nino shivers and they both cut their gazes.

 

Nino is tiptoe-ing through the warm aisles of the combini one block away from his apartment. It's nearly two in the morning but there's always someone and so he tugs down his cap, yanks up his collar as he stands in front of the rack of cheap hamburgers. There's never anything in his refrigerator now; he spends most of his time in Kyoto and whenever he comes back days have passed. Nino lives on a diet of combini food.

He's wavering between cheese and teriyaki when someone steps next to him and says quietly, "Psst."

Nino jumps, almost sending both burgers flying. When he glances up it's Matsuken standing there, laughing his silent laugh with his hair tucked up under a black beanie and stubble already peppering his face. "Sorry," Matsuken mumbles wryly, looking unrepentant. "This is quite a coincidence."

"Augh," Nino hisses. And then, belatedly, "What are you doing? Here?"

The last time he'd seen Matsuken had been five or six hours ago, before Nino had to make his way back to Tokyo for a filming. His brain is having trouble catching up in its exhaustion.

"I got invited to drinks around here," Matsuken says, peering at the rows of bread. "It just ended."

"That's late," Nino says, speaking the obvious. The obvious is that it must have been drinks out of obligation, not something with friends. Matsuken looks deflated, dark shadows under his eyes and strong shoulders hanging heavy. He holds his basket in Nino's direction and Nino tosses the cheeseburger in, watching it settle on a bentou.

"How are you getting home?"

Matsuken finally settles on a plain bread with rye. "Taxi, I guess?"

"No reason to." His mouth speaks before his brain can actually make the decision. "I live close by. I have a microwave and Mario." Nino mentally slaps himself. He's not sure why he feels so off-kilter, whether it's the exhaustion or hunger or this person. "If you'd like to."

Matsuken's mouth opens, then closes. His throat works above the collar of his jacket and his eyes connect with Nino's before they skitter away. He falls into dialect when he says, "Yeah, thanks, I'd be happy to."

 

They're quiet as Nino lets them into his apartment, quiet as they put down their things, quiet as Nino boots up his Wii before disappearing into the kitchen. The strange thing here is that it isn't strange; it'd taken Nino a remarkably short time to fall into being comfortable with Matsuken the same way he is with Arashi. It's not exactly the same. Half the time Nino still sees Arashi as overlaid with the images of their child selves and that's how they treat each other, respect tempered with laughter.

But Matsuken is solid, comfortable in a different way. He doesn't feel like an intrusion here. Nino doesn't often let people into his apartment. There's so little chance for private time; when he has it he likes to be alone with his games or his magic. Being with Matsuken doesn't feel like obligation.

Dark eyes, considering. Dark hair. Words that trip and tumble out like tiny stones, out of any sensible order. A steady deepness, a solid frame, a quiet, wry smile. _I like him,_ Nino thinks. _Huh._

When he steps back into the living room Matsuken is sprawled loosely on the couch, peering at the photos crowded to the sides of the bureau under the TV by game consoles. There's not many. An ugly candid shot with Katsumi, a photograph of his mother and sister, a recent photo of him with Arashi at an izakaya after a concert, tired but grinning.

"No girlfriend?" Matsuken asks, turning a controller over in his hands. "Sorry, that was--"

"No time," Nino says, handing Matsuken a beer. "I've only got time for those four morons."

Matsuken smiles. "I hear all the time on TV that you're close, but it seems you really are."

"It'd be better to say that we're weird." And they laugh.

They play Mario halfheartedly for a while, dying often while grabbing bites of food and beer. When Nino looks at Matsuken he's looking at Nino out of the corner of his eye, dark eyes peering. Nino doesn't look away.

"Am I that interesting?" he says, over the sound of Mario music in the background.

"Yes," Matsuken says hesitantly. Twin spots of red rise on his cheeks and stain there. "I think that you think I am, too."

Nino huffs and moves closer to Matsuken until their dark hair overlaps. He reaches up and Matsuken leans down. This time, he closes his eyes.


End file.
